His comment made me think of Sophia. As much as I didn’t want to think so—because it made my situation easier—she was a good woman. Mr. Thorne was the only person I could admit all my ugly shit to, and he wouldn’t look down on me or judge me. Maybe it was because he had his own ugliness, or maybe it was because he was confined to this bed, and the only people who visited him were the nurse who got paid to take care of him and me. But whatever the reason, I trusted him with anything. In a lot of ways, he’d taken Caroline’s place. She was the only person I ever felt like myself around.
Blowing out a deep breath, I said, “I’ve actually started seeing a new woman. Well, she’s not really new, considering we’ve known each other since we were kids. And I guess technically we aren’t seeing each other, but whatever. There’s a woman.”
Mr. Thorne nodded. “Go on.”
“There’s not much to tell. Her name is Sophia, and she’s basically my enemy.”
“So, you’re telling me you’re sleeping with the enemy, like the movie?”
I laughed. “A different kind of enemy. Basically, my family and her family hate each other.”
“But you two get along?”
I shook my head. “Not exactly. Most of the time, she’s about five seconds away from kicking me in the balls.”
Mr. Thorne’s bushy brows dipped down. “I’m confused. So, you’re not sleeping with this girl?”
“No, I am.”
“But she wants to kick you in the balls?”
I smiled. “She does.”
“And that makes you smile? I don’t understand this generation at all.”
“She doesn’t like me. But her body does. We’re like a tornado and a volcano. It’s rare the two meet. But when they do, it’s explosive.”
“Explosive, huh? That sounds more like destructive to me.”
He had a point. But it was okay. Sophia wouldn’t get hurt, since she was the tornado, and they tended to move on quickly. It was the volcano that sat around dormant for years on end.
“Be careful. That sounds like the type of thing that can jeopardize your recovery.”
“Don’t worry about me. I got it all under control.”
Our eyes met for a moment, and we both knew this wasn’t the first time I’d uttered those words and been wrong. Though I appreciated him not reminding me of that.
I stood. “How about we get your lazy ass into the wheelchair, and I take you outside for a walk? It’s beautiful out.”
Mr. Thorne nodded and smiled. “I’d like that.”
***
Later that afternoon, I hit up an AA meeting on my way back to The Countess. After, I sat in my office thinking about what Mr. Thorne had said. I’d assured him I had things under control, and that was accurate in regard to my drinking, but the truth of the matter was that Sophia Sterling was getting under my skin. If I wasn’t watching her from afar, I was thinking of excuses to go talk to her, which inevitably led to an argument I’d get off on. My days had become centered around watching her or interacting with her, and our nights together fulfilled my fantasies. If I couldn’t goad her into a fight that heated things up between us, I sat in my room alone, jerking off to the memory. I’d even arranged it so when I moved out of the presidential suite, I moved into the room she’d just vacated and declined housekeeping. So now my sheets smelled like her, and every time I went into the shower, I imagined her standing in the exact same spot bringing herself to orgasm. Between that and how I liked to secretly watch her in line at the coffee shop and working behind the reception desk, I was turning into a real creeper.
So when Sophia knocked on my open door, I felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
I cleared my throat. “Yes, Fifi?”
She rolled her eyes and walked in. “Why did you start calling me that in high school, anyway?”
I leaned back in my chair and tossed my pen onto the desk. “I don’t know. I said it once and saw that it got a rise out of you, so it stuck.”
She sighed. “Some things never change, huh?”
“Well, technically they do. These days you’re the one getting the rise out of me, aren’t you?” I winked.
Sophia smirked, but ignored my comment. She took a seat in a chair on the other side of my desk and crossed her legs.
Was it me, or did her skirt ride up a little higher today? This morning, when I watched her from afar at the coffee shop, she’d had her hair down, but it was pulled to the side so I had a clear view of the beautiful skin on the back of her neck. While she stood in line, her perfectly manicured nails gently grazed up and down from her hairline into her silk blouse. I’d assumed it was my vivid imagination, and she wasn’t intentionally trying to drive me crazy, but this afternoon’s skirt was a bit on the short side.